Randall O'Donnell, CEO of Children's Mercy Hospitals and Clinics, is more of a teddy bear than a Tedy Bruschi.

But Bruschi, an NFL linebacker, would have been proud of the hit O'Donnell laid on a fellow orderly in Lafayette, Ind., about 40 years ago.

O'Donnell, then 16, didn't realize the depth of his empathy for hospitalized children until he heard an orderly tell a sobbing girl awaiting surgery to shut up.

"This little girl had been in a car accident, and she had been in for repeat surgeries because she'd suffered massive trauma to her face," O'Donnell said. "She was always terribly frightened. And when this guy walked by her stretcher and said, 'You need to shut up; we're doing serious business here,' she just went crazy."

So did O'Donnell, who stifled his fury long enough to help calm the girl. Then, he tracked down the offending orderly.

"I've never hit anybody in my life," O'Donnell said. "But what I did do was I gave him a shoulder slam into a locker hard enough to leave a dent in the door. I said, 'Don't you ever talk to a child like that again.'"

The son of a football coach, O'Donnell played linebacker in high school. But his career path was influenced more by his late mother, a pediatric nurse and pioneer in the psychosocial care of hospitalized children.

"My mom was one of the first in the nation who fought to have children's parents stay overnight with them in the hospital," O'Donnell said.

Inspired by his mother and his knack for making ill children laugh, O'Donnell became the first U.S. doctoral candidate to write his dissertation on the psychological, emotional and spiritual needs of young patients.

Since then, he has been putting his beliefs into frequently colorful practice.

Children's Mercy looked a lot like a stark, sterile adult hospital before O'Donnell became CEO in 1993, said Nancy Cox, co-COO. Now, whimsical features such as the stardome, with buttons kids can push to change the color of the sky, help satisfy one of his credos: A children's hospital shouldn't look, feel or smell like a hospital.

O'Donnell, however, said he thinks the best place for kids to recuperate is home, when that's possible. Thus, during his previous tenure as CEO of Arkansas Children's Hospital, that institution started offering outpatient surgery, even though insurers wouldn't cover it.

"Back in the early '80s, insurers, including Medicaid, would ask, 'If it's that serious, how can you send them home the same day?'" O'Donnell said. "Then they'd pay us for a clinic visit."

The payers changed their tune when O'Donnell threatened to start keeping the young surgery patients for days and inflating their bills accordingly.

O'Donnell also led the charge for federal support for the interns and residents educated by pediatric teaching hospitals like Children's Mercy, said Maurice Watson, immediate past chairman of the Children's Mercy board.

A photograph of O'Donnell witnessing President Clinton's signing of the graduate medical education legislation now hangs outside O'Donnell's office.

O'Donnell's ongoing efforts to boost government and philanthropic support have helped Children's Mercy expand considerably, said Mary Hunkeler, chairwoman of the hospital's board.

"I think the driver has been Rand's belief in providing the very highest standard of medical care for children all over this community, not just in one area," Hunkeler said.

Under O'Donnell, the nearly 4,000-employee system has expanded from 193 to 314 beds on its Hospital Hill campus. It has added a second inpatient hospital, Children's Mercy South, in Overland Park. It has opened Children's Mercy Northland, an outpatient and urgent-care facility. And it has added clinics and outreach centers as far away as Wichita.

"From primary care through the most sophisticated quaternary care, you're going to get the same level of treatment whether you have insurance or not," O'Donnell said.

Watson said O'Donnell had instilled a child-focused culture in the entire staff, from doctors to custodians.

"But if you do not have leaders able to ensure you meet the financial objectives, you can't accomplish anything for long," Watson said. "And, fortunately, Rand is an extraordinarily skilled financial manager."

One example is O'Donnell's ability to negotiate appropriate reimbursement rates from private payers, Watson said. He also has made Children's Mercy a leader in pediatric research, which has attracted grants and the kind of top-notch pediatric specialists that privately insured families demand.

O'Donnell, however, cites another of his credos -- children aren't little adults -- as his impetus for more research.

"Until recently, about 85 percent of pharmaceuticals used in the treatment of children had never been tested for their safety in kids," O'Donnell said.

Children's Mercy is helping change that as a world leader in pediatric pharmacology research.

Meanwhile, the system is continuing its clinical expansion, with a master plan for new Kansas and Missouri facilities to be unveiled in the fall.

O'Donnell's love for children, however, knows no geographic bounds. Thus, when his counterpart at New Orleans Children's Hospital called for evacuation help after Katrina, O'Donnell didn't have to stop to think about it. Within minutes, he had arranged for two military airplanes to bring 24 children and their families to Kansas City.

Children's Mercy still hasn't been reimbursed. But O'Donnell said he never puts financial considerations first.

"That's really the essence of Rand," Hunkeler said. "He wants to do what's right for kids."